


psychedelia

by cl0wnb0nes (orphan_account)



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz (Two River Cast) Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxious Jeremy Heere, Background Chloe Valentine, Blood and Injury, Drug Use, Gen, Jake Dillinger Being an Asshole, LSD, M/M, Michael Mell Smokes Marijuana, Michael Mell is a Little Shit, Mild Gore, Peer Pressure, Rich Goranski Being an Asshole, Squips (Be More Chill)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22510540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cl0wnb0nes
Summary: jeremy has a bad trip when he tries a new drug[or]an au where the squip is more like lsd, rather than a supercomputer.
Relationships: Jake Dillinger/Chloe Valentine, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell, Rich Goranski/Brooke Lohst, Rich Goranski/Michael Mell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	psychedelia

"I don't see the hype about it." Jeremy mumbled, his lips pressing into a flat line.

"You can back out if you want, man," Michael shrugged, the gap in his teeth visible through the sly grin that was plastered on his face, "You'll just be a pussy. And that'd be a lot of money down the drain."

Staring down at the gray tab, Jeremy almost felt _bad_ about not wanting to take it. 642 dollars, though? It better be worth the price. Small beads of sweat were forming on the palm of his hand, yet the tab was untouched. There was a weird science behind it. Only saliva triggered the reaction; whatever the hell was in his spit that made it dissolve, Jeremy really questioned if he wanted to know or not. He could feel the guilt building up in his throat, his left leg starting to bounce. 

Jeremy sighed out, "Dude, this isn't a good idea. What if I get a bad trip?" 

"Oh, come on, this shit is evolutionary. No bad trips." Michael took a seat next to him, the same gray tab pressed into his hand as well, "Trust me. My brother had a dealer, and he let me buy some from him. No spooky shit, no nothin'." 

Still, Jeremy was left with uncertainty. With his luck, things were doomed to fall apart. Seeing the drug hyped up on Rich's Snapchat story, he couldn't help but be curious. Rich was at a party (of course), and everyone around him seemed to be having a good time. He half-wondered if they've taken more than one. Curiosity _did_ kill the cat. But, last he checked, he wasn't a cat. He pursed his lips again and looked at the label on the tab. S.Q.U.I.P. The hell was that even supposed to mean? It's not like he could just look it up. This shit was shady as hell, and he was pretty sure it was illegal in America. How Rich got his hands on this stuff he would never understand. 

"Gah, fine, fine!" Jeremy blew out the air in his cheeks, the tab resting between his thumb and his index finger. He shook his head at himself before pressing it onto his tongue after Michael did, the minty flavor hurting his jaw and making his teeth sore. He closed his eyes and slumped back against the couch, his leg still bouncing as fast as it was before. The trip was supposed to last somewhere between nine to twelve hours, and his stomach hurt at the thought of having to go through it for that long. 

The spit in his mouth was pooling up, and it only tasted like the same stinging mint of the square. He forced himself to swallow and glanced over at Michael, who was happily drumming along to the beat of the faint music that was playing in the background. Freddie Dredd. Classic. He felt too hyper-aware of his surroundings, the walls too loud and the music too bright. Michael slowly lifted his head and snorted at the sight of Jeremy.

"God, you look so paranoid. Look at you. All sweaty, 'n shit. Just go with it, man. Don't try to control your trip, just.. Go with the flow, I guess. Yeah." Michael stuck his tongue out and tipped his head back, his head swaying slightly. 

Go with the flow. Right. He can do that. Easy. Piece of cake. His arm was starting to shake, and he wasn't sure if it was from fear, adrenaline, or if he was just dying. His breathing was rapid and goosebumps were forming along his arms. Was he melting? It sure felt like it. Jeremy poked open an eye and looked over at his friend, his breath hitching in his throat.

Blue lines formed along the arms of Michael, the sight unnerving. He reached forward and grabbed his arm, his thumb tracing over the lines. His eyes darted down to his own hands, his shoulders raising, along with the hairs on the back of his neck, seeing the same lines formed against his veins. The room was getting dim, and the music was fading. Everything around him was dissolving, and slowly fading out of his reach. He felt like he could throw up. 

A light cyan color slowly started to seep out of the tips of his fingers, a confused look overcoming his face. He tapped his fingers together and slowly pushed them apart, the liquid having a weird consistency of syrup, or molasses. It was disturbing, to say the least. The fact that it wouldn't stop only unsettled him more, the anxious feeling in his gut pushing up through his chest and into his throat, the taste of bile starting to bite at the back of his mouth. Jeremy curled over and held his stomach, his fingertips buzzing, the pulsing feeling only upsetting him further. It was out of rhythm with his heartbeat, the sound making him hold his breath. He pushed his head against the plush carpet, trying to ignore the feeling of it melting against his skin and bonding to him like a sort of glue. He was sweating, and it felt weird against his skin.

The faint beat of the music was enough to pull him out of that space, his arms pushing him up off of the carpet. _Go with the flow_ , the quiet advice of Michael popped up in the back of his head. This wasn't something he wanted to go with. He felt like he was going to end up decaying in the middle of his room, and that was one of the last things he wanted to do. How pathetic would it be, to die under the influence of some illegal drug? If he died, then Michael would end up getting busted. Then, he'd be arrested. He gagged, pulling a hand up instantly to cover his mouth, a slight snap coming from his nose. He winced and sat up to stare at his hand, then wipe at his nose, more blue covering the palm of his hand. He could feel it running down his lip and into his mouth, almost gagging again at the taste. Metal mixed with mint; a combination Jeremy never wanted to taste ever again. How could Michael withstand something like this?

Weed was the only thing he'd stick to, and this trip only confirmed that thought. He slowly got up off of the floor and sniffled, legs shaking like a baby deer's. He felt around the darkness before grabbing hold of a door knob, pushing open and letting himself fall back in what felt like slow motion.

Jeremy woke up groggily in the middle of his living room, his breathing slow and shaky. His hands felt wet, and his nose was cold. He pushed himself up off of the ground with the palms of his hands, his eyes darting down to his hands. Blood. His once white carpet was a dark shade of red, and his hands were coated in it. The hell? He swallowed the spit in his mouth, residual mint sending the cool sensation down his throat. He gagged at the taste and stumbled to get up, glancing out the window and looking at the sun. It was slowly rising, golden rays peeking through the roofs of the houses and sending right into his eyes. God, how long had it been? He slowly got up and went to the bathroom, glancing at his complexion and wincing, disgusted at the sight of himself. His pupils were still dilated, and a smudged line of blood was running down his nose to his chin. He rushed to clean himself up, his fingers stumbling over the towels and soap.

Another few minutes in the bathroom, and he was as good as new... Somewhat. His hair was still matted and messy, and he couldn't stop shaking. It was obvious he was still coming down from his trip, and it'd be another few hours before he was back to normal.

The boy stumbled out of the bathroom and rushed to his room, glancing at the surprisingly well put together Michael sitting on his bed. He rushed over and grabbed the scruff of his neck, pushing him down and glaring down at him. "You _lied_ , asshole!" 

"Listen, I have no idea what the hell happened to you! You were acting all freaky, and I didn't want to get involved!" Michael squirmed out of Jeremy's grip and looked him up and down, his brows furrowing at the sight of the residual blood on his hands. "... Dude, are you good?"

"I freaked the fuck out and all you did was watch?" Jeremy forced a small laugh, staring at him in disbelief and a bit of shame.

"What was I supposed to do? There's no miracle cure for bad trips. Shit happens, dude. Maybe it's not as evolutionary as I thought it was?" Michael awkwardly laughed and backed up against the wall, tugging down the sleeves of his hoodie and slowly getting off of the bed. "Just.. Drink water and eat bread. I think that might work if you wanna come down. I'll leave if you want me to-" 

Jeremy cut him off with a tight hug, his arms wrapped under Michael's. He buried his face into the crook of his neck and held him tightly, his body rocking slightly. Did Michael do anything to object? Of course not. They sat in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the day, until Jeremy spoke up again,

"Where can I buy more?"


End file.
